Quarantine
by AGENT Kuma-chan
Summary: The death toll is rising and she doesn't know why. -Sakura, Sasuke. For SasuSakuMonth 2012.
1. Sample Size

**Title:** Sample Size

**Prompt:** July 6th / Quarantine

**Note:** This is probably relatively inaccurate. In fact the entire series is probably, but let's say this takes place in a universe where it is like this.

I'm a bit proud of this one, inaccuracies aside.

**Summary:** _Her world shrinks until it's only her and the microscope, the scent of iron filling the stale air._

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...

...

The glass clinks as she carefully places the slip on the slide, pushing firmly so no air is trapped. Dabbing the edges slightly with a paper towel, she slides the specimen under the microscope, the settings already in place for her.

A red sight greets her when she peers through the lens, adjusting the magnification till she could see the individual cells.

She remembers ninth grade, the sharp smell of vinegar and the quiet curses as yet another slide broke. No one knew how delicate they were, how easy it was to break the glass with the microscope. She broke three herself, subtly tossing the pieces into the trash when her teacher wasn't looking.

Now she can't risk it, can't risk the chance the sample could be lost. Her nimble fingers slowly turn the knobs and where there used to be the soft chatter of classmates there is now only the tapping of pencils and hum of the generator.

-x-

She spends days in the blood clinic, days peering through small holes and writing notes of disappointment. There are others with her in this quiet affair, all searching and marking down who is safe.

All marking down who is lost.

No. Sakura shakes her head, a pink lock escaping her bun. No, not lost. Just infected. There was still time to find a cure, still time to save people. One of these samples could have the antibodies needed, the natural chemical mix that was hard to duplicate.

She removes a glove and pins back her hair. The others around her are still bent at work, a uniform mass of white.

And, though she does not like to think of it, uniform in diminishing hope.

-x-

"Sakura?"

It's the smell that hits her first, a tang of orange that cuts through the iron she has no longer noticed. Looking up, she sees dark blue and soft lavender and a face she now knows as Hinata.

Her throat feels thick, her voice hoarse. When was the last time she spoke? She swallows the dryness before managing a word. "Yes?"

There is something undeniably sad in the other girl's face. "He's infected."

Something in her face must give, some unconscious spasm. Hinata only looks sadder, her hand pointing to her left.

"Sasuke's in room 1329."

And she doesn't give a second thought as she freezes, dropping the slip on the floor. It shatters—and she remembers a hot classroom, a vial of indigo, dark hair, and bright blue eyes.

She remembers and starts to run.


	2. Mechanics

**Title:** Mechanics

**Prompt:** July 7th / Teacher

**Warnings: **AU universe

**Note:** A bit in Sasuke's point of view, which is interesting to experiment in. Takes place roughly slightly before and during the previous chapter.

**Summary:** _The city's on edge, too afraid and too quiet. He's tired of it all._

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...

...

"Oi, Sasuke, you need to go to the clinic."

The smell of oil and grease is stronger now, and he delves further under the car, ignoring Kiba's voice. Cool metal rests in his hand as he pulls his toolbox after him, a flash light in his other as he stares up at the tangle of pipes above him.

It's familiar and all he knows. Letting go of the red box, he examines the weave above him, scanning each part to find the problem.

The car is lifted higher above him before he can get far and a shaggy head appears in front of him.

"I'm serious—the rest of us have gone and it's already noon."

"The clinics don't close and it'll be crowded now." He brushes past the smaller man, reaching for the button to move the vehicle back down.

"Sasuke." A hand takes the controller before him, and he doesn't have to look to see the steel in his partner's eyes. There is something decidedly nervous and scared in the way he pauses, in the way he grips Sasuke's shoulders and turns him around.

The whole town is like this now, frightened and insecure. The virus had only been discovered a few months ago, but already cases had been popping up of deaths.

"Scared?"

And where Naruto might have bristled and snapped in response, Kiba looks away. There's an edge in his voice as he replies, an edge Sasuke's tired of finding.

"It's hard not to be."

-x-

"Sasuke!"

He picks up his pace, not stopping as he hears the sound of footsteps quickening to catch up to him.

"You bastard!" Naruto's arms casually sling around his shoulders despite his words and there's a tired but familiar grin on his face. "You did that on purpose!"

"Of course," he deadpans against the accusing words. The streets in front of him aren't as clogged as they were earlier in the day and he can make out the clinic's doors ahead of them.

"Getting your shots? Me too!" There's an unnatural silence after those words and he knows Naruto's thinking of the orphanage he runs.

Sasuke has always been good with his hands. It's something he can fall back on and when Kiba told him of opening a garage, he couldn't refuse. Naruto, though he has the skills as well, has always been better with his words. A true politician if he could ever pay attention long enough.

Instead, he spends his time helping charities and orphanages and Sasuke can't deny it suits him better.

"They're safe?" he finally asks, the quiet unbearable.

"They had their shots and seem fine." Naruto pauses, stares up at the sky as he walks beside him. His arm is still warm and heavy against his neck and Sasuke slips out of the hold. "I can barely recognize the city sometimes."

He shakes himself before grinning once more. "Picking up Sakura-chan after this?" Waggling his eyebrows, Naruto gives a semi-lewd grin and nudge. "It's been a while since you've seen her."

Sasuke picks up the pace in response, ignoring the truth ringing in the idiot's words.

-x-

Naruto's head is heavy on his shoulder, asleep from the long hours of waiting in the room. Several people come and go and Sasuke glances at his watch, his arm a little sore from the vaccinations and needles they stuck in it.

The garage must be closed by now. Sakura's shift will be ending soon and hopefully they'll release him before she leaves. A nurse approaches them and he shakes the blonde off his shoulder before she can speak.

"Uzumaki Naruto? You can leave now. Please come back if any of these symptoms occur." A half-asleep hand grasps the sheet she holds out. Blearily, he gets up and looks down at Sasuke.

"Iiii...wait for...you?"

"It's fine."

Naruto blinks for a moment, giving a small grin. "Sakura-chan." Somehow that thought is still the first one in his mind and he laughs at the glare Sasuke gives him before disappearing through the door.

An hour passes. Two. He's nodding off himself when he hears a small commotion at the door. He stretches, a flash of pink in the corner of his eye, and picks up his bag to head home.

It's only when Sakura's worried eyes find his that Sasuke realizes something's wrong.


	3. Hallucinate

**Title:** Mirage

**Summary:** He dreams more often than he stays awake. The past seems better than this tense present.

**Prompt:** July 13th / Hallucinate

**Note:** I think this one could have been slightly longer, but I'm not entirely sure what I could have added without giving things away.

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Specter disease, they tell him. It's hard to tell who has it until it activates, the virus simply hiding amongst the blood cells in his body until they turn on.

Apparently his have turned on and now he's lying on a bed, his head warm and vision feverish. Sasuke's world shrinks to this room and the fifteen other occupants, their beds crammed against each other in an attempt to fit in as many patients as possible.

Occasionally he hears long conversations, a man talking to himself, and he learns after the first few that it won't be long before that person will disappear. A nurse appears, pushing a food cart, and he squashes the blind hope that she'll tell him this was a mistake.

His world shrinks into a quiet wait for death and he tries not to think of how long it is before he is raving himself.

-x-

It's days before he sees Sakura again, though he knows she probably visited him when he was asleep. She's sitting beside his bed, quietly checking his temperature before jotting it down on her clipboard. Her hand reaches for the cold pack on his head and he grabs her hand before it gets too far.

"Sasuke-kun." Her voice is tired and strained, and she weaves her fingers with his. There has always been a quiet strength in her but he can't find it right now. "It's nice to see you're awake."

"How long?"

"Till what?"

He gives her a pointed look and she drops the naivety like a broken shield. "I don't know. No one does. It could be weeks, it could be months. Even days—we've yet to find a way to cure this. We don't even fully understand it, only what to kill it with before it activates. And even that was luck."

She stops abruptly, sighing, before making a move to leave. "I refuse to let you die." A smile and he sees it again, that quiet strength.

-x-

When Sasuke was younger, his father used to take him to the shed on Sundays. A giant toolbox stood there, in a corner, and each week a new tool was learned. His first was a screwdriver, a blue one with a flat head.

He can still feel the plastic edges of the handle, the soft point of the tip. If he thinks about it long enough, hard enough, he can hear his father talking to him and chuckling at his clumsy attempt to screw in a nail.

-x-

More often than not, he wakes to find her sleeping on the chair beside him, her head resting on the edge of his bed. There is only the faintest light in the room, enough to make out the shape of her eyes and lips, the soft contours of her face.

His body is still hot, still burning, and he falls asleep shortly after into a dreamless sleep. When he wakes once more, she's gone and only the impression of her head on his bed is left.

-x-

His memories of his mother are hazy at best, most of them centered around the kitchen and her garden. The scent of dinner, the fragile petals of a flower, he remembers the objects around her more than he remembers her.

It is his brother he remembers most. The strange expressions, the odd gestures. Walking home afterschool with him in the dapple shade, his feet forever half a step behind. They'd walk next to a creek, Itachi pointing out different signs of the seasons. In the summer, Itachi would take him to the park and teach him different sports.

This is all he remembers:

Learning to swing a bat, to defend a net. To swim, to run, to throw a punch. The late nights spent viewing the moon, the early morning stretches as he flopped out of bed. The sting of a scrape and smooth press of a band-aid.

Even now he can feel the tip of his finger, poking his head as a teasing voice calls him, "Foolish little brother."

He'll never understand what happened, what went wrong.

"But you want to, don't you?"

-x-

He wakes up with a start, staring at the pitch black room. His heart races, calms, and uneasily he falls asleep once more.

-x-

"Any closer?"

Rarely, she spends a meal with him, reading her notebook between bites of food. At his words she winces, her fingers clenching the edges of the paper.

"No." He can hear the _not yet_ at the tip of her tongue, her misery at this lack of answers. She has become familiar to him, in all her ways and actions, and that is how he knows she's going to grip his hand before she does. "I will. I promise."

Sakura once told him the worst thing a doctor can do is give false hope, give a promise that can never be kept.

He looks at her now and wonders who she's lying to—him or herself?

-x-

He dreams of Itachi, of Naruto and Kiba. Dreams of what once was and what never will be. Itachi laughs at him, pokes him the forehead and gives a mysterious smile before disappearing.

"Little brother, it took you long enough."

-x-

"You're a hallucination, aren't you?"

Sakura stops stroking his head, a surprised expression on her face. "Of course you'd figure it out." She resumes stroking, humming softly as she does so. "Not always—she was here some of the time, but occasionally it was just an illusion."

He doesn't question her words—his words, when it came down to it. Instead he closes his eyes and wonders when the dreams became a reality.


End file.
